


Not Entirely New

by RiftOdyssey



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiftOdyssey/pseuds/RiftOdyssey
Summary: Orange notices something changing on the way home from the parking lot brawl.
Relationships: Trent Barreta/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Not Entirely New

The air was cool and crisp, the wind pulled through Orange's hair as he looked out the open window. The night wasn't dark, light poured from every sign and storefront, streetlamps' golden hues pooled on the sidewalks. The low roar of cars rushing by filled his ears with noise. Behind the glasses, he let his eyes close, stress falling away in waves. 

Despite hardly wrestling, he felt exhausted. Just sitting in the trunk of that car, hot and humid and dark, hearing the muffled cries of his best friends, the heavy thud of metal against skin, had driven him insane. The way the steel chain in his hand felt slick with sweat, and how his heart skipped a beat with every bump. Now, with a deep breath, he tried to let that tension out of his shoulders.

Glancing forward, the dashboard lit up space around it—the only light that didn't rush past the windshield. Across from him, Sue's eyes stared straight ahead. Her eyes were tired but proud, the echo of a smile still on her face. She readjusted the rearview mirror, lingering as she caught sight of something behind her and letting her smile return.

He wanted to turn and look, but his body refused. The cool air, the soft seats, the way his arms were folded just so, his head laid back just right, he wouldn't move if his life depended on it. No can do.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him, turning slightly to peer behind his seat. As he did, a gentle smile swept across his face. There in the backseat, Chuck and Trent lay, sprawled against each other; arms wrapped around and heads resting on one another. 

Something about it made his heart jump in his chest: their hands, he realized. Laced together and resting between the two of them on the car seat. The physical contact was nothing new. Even though Trent didn't like being touched, he never complained about Chuck giving him hugs in matches or leaning up against him, wrapping his arm around him, holding hands.

But something about this was different. In one moment, the joking nature of the 'Best Friends' slipped away. Dark streaks of blood marked the seats behind them, the two collapsed on each other, finally knowing the other was safe. It seemed nice, Orange thought. He, on the other hand, just felt gross and tired.

He had almost slipped into unconsciousness by the time they reached the hotel. Dragging himself from his seat in the dimly lit parking garage, he gently nudged Trent in the back. His grip on Chuck tightened before letting go, tapping his friend's face until he began to stir.

The three of them saw Sue off to her hotel room. She gave them each another hug, being especially careful with Trent, now tentatively covering himself with a large t-shirt.

Another flight of stairs and Chuck and Trent's door swung open. The three men collapsed on whatever surface they saw first. Orange winced as he sat down, a headache forming from stress and humidity. Each of them was gasping for breath. Trent quickly pulled off his shirt and grabbed his bag, heading to the bathroom. 

Orange thought about taking off his shoes, wondering if the momentary discomfort would be worth it. Chuck looked around too, his mind elsewhere.

"Think we should get room service?" He asked. The water turned on the room over. Orange shrugged, willing to wake up a bit hungry if it meant he got some sleep. If only he'd roomed with these two, then he wouldn't be dreading the journey upstairs.

"Chuck?" A careful question barely crept out of the bathroom door, muffled by the running shower. Trent's head peaked around the corner, catching Chuck's gaze. A pause. Chuck watched Orange, waiting for some sort of reaction. There was none. His brow was furrowed as he followed Trent into the bathroom.

He waited for a couple of minutes. Nothing. _Fuck it,_ he decided. Stripping out of his ring gear, Orange grabbed some clothes from Chuck's bag. An old t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants—nothing he'd miss on short notice. He caught his reflection in the mirror and saw how big the clothes looked on his thin frame. Whenever he borrowed his friend's clothes, Chuck would make some joke about him being super fit, usually segueing into Chuck calling himself out of shape. It had made him laugh the first few times. 

Sighing, he brushed some trash off the nearest bed and laid down. They'd come back out soon and tell him to get off, but for now, the feeling of unfamiliar sheets against his bare skin was heavenly. He closed his eyes.

* * *

He wasn't sure when he'd begun to drift off—time was a write-off at this point. _How long had he been asleep?_ He wondered. The lights were off, the shower had stopped. There was a pain on the sides of his head. It only occurred to him now that he'd failed to take off his sunglasses. Slowly, he rolled onto his side.

There, in the bed across from him, he could see two forms. For a moment, he felt bad for taking one of the beds.

Trent was the first one he picked out, squinting in the dark. There were bandages up his sides and over his shoulders. There was an arm wrapped around him. The face cradled in his neck lifted and pressed a kiss into his shoulder, their fingers intertwined. Chuck, he realized. That was Chuck.

Orange stiffened. He prayed neither of them was awake enough to see him turn several shades of bright red. The room had gotten cold, the sudden awareness making him feel strangely exposed. Quietly, he pulled the bedsheets up and over him, feeling the warmth of where he'd been sleeping and tried to comprehend what had just happened.

This—was it love? Chuck and Trent in love: he hadn't worded it that way before, it was such a foreign notion. The calm he'd managed all night was quickly receding as his mind raced. Questions filled his head about what was happening, what would happen next, how he hadn't seen this coming. He didn't know what to do.

The sounds of the hotel room drifted away, consumed by his thoughts. He looked over at them again.

There they were. Legs tangled, tired and quiet, safe in each other's arms. He felt like he was interrupting their gentle breaths. He watched their shoulders rise and fall. The pattern was slow, hypnotic. He felt his breathing slow, matching theirs. It was quiet.

He couldn't remember a time when rooming with Chuck didn't mean being woken up to the sound of him cracking open a beer at one in the morning. He'd grown accustomed to the bored groans, tired complaining, and late-night misery. Trent was prone to similar, from the few times the two of them had bunked. When all three of them stayed together it was a miracle they were conscious the next day. This was unprecedented, this was different. This was... peaceful. That was the best way he could describe it. His mind settled.

Tomorrow was bound to be full of bruised and broken bodies. Tomorrow sounded miserable. Tonight they deserved some peace and quiet. Together or not, he remembered, Chuck and Trent were his friends. Orange took off his glasses and settled down. If they were happy, he was happy.

And if it meant he could steal one of their beds instead of climbing the stairs to his room? Well, he didn't mind at all.


End file.
